28 Days of Chelsie Goodness
by dillyydallyy
Summary: A series of cute, angsty, romantic, funny drabbles featuring the cutest couple of the 20th century.
1. Beginnings

"So this is it." Her words are meant to sound positive but they come out mangled in nerves.

Charles looks at her inquisitively, trying to read her facial expression. Jaw tense, eyes drooping down ever so slightly, teeth causing her bottom lip to turn white.

"Elsie, what's wrong?"

She turns to face him, the afternoon sun peeking through the trees, illuminating her crystal eyes and pale complexion. They are standing outside of their cottage, neither one having stepped inside since the furniture has been moved in. Anna and Baxter had cleaned every nook and cranny, while Mr. Bates and Moseley managed some minor repairs; "a wedding gift from us" they had said.

"I..."

"Are you worried that you won't like what they did? I can assure you.."

"Oh no it's not that. I'm sure they did an astonishing job."

He waits patiently for her to continue but she looks off into the distance, almost as if she is ashamed.

He clasps her hands gently in his, hoping that his warmth will open her up to him. "Please tell me."

"It's really quite foolish..."

"Oh now, I can assure you whatever it is, I promise to take seriously."

"Well, I just feel...nervous. Anxious. A bit apprehensive. This is what I truly want, more than anything in the world but I can't help but feel scared. This whole thing is quite hypocritical of me. You're the one who's supposed to be afraid of change, not me."

At that he laughs; he just can't help it. She gives him a light slap on his arm, her own smile appearing on her face.

"Oh Elsie. I think I am more frightened than you are! Change, of any type, can make anyone anxious."

"You seem so calm, so at ease.."

"Then I must be hiding it very well."

Their smiles grow and their anxieties dissolve and he is the one who breaks the silence.

"Perhaps I can help relax you." His hands leave hers to cup her face, leaning in for a kiss. His lips were on hers long enough for her craving to flare.

"Mr. Carson, I have a lot of anxiety..." He silences her with another kiss, the only thing she registers is the sound of the lock and his arms swooping her off her feet and carrying her over the threshold.


	2. Accusation

**A/N: I'm trying to play catch up with these drabbles so the third one will be posted later tonight. It's like I'm trying to smother you with feels ;D**

"CHARLES CARSON."

The echo of her angry Scottish cadence penetrated his eardrums. She very rarely got like this, and he can't imagine what he di-

_Oh._

He dropped the newspaper on the settee and stood up as she came barreling through the kitchen into the living room, apron on and wooden spoon in hand.

"Charles. Carson." She severed his name into two very low, seething expressions. She pointed the wooden spoon at him, cake batter dripped onto the floor.

He puts his hands up in front of his chest in defeat, cocking his head to the side at the sight before him.

"Did you, or did you not, use your finger to take a swig of my cake batter?"

This is it, this is the end. Ever since they retired, married and moved into their cottage, she'd taken up cooking. She didn't want Beryl's help, insisting that she learn on her own. After several failed attempts at making Beryl's famous chocolate cake, Charles thought he could ease the tension by offering help and adding humor. He would sneak in and try the batter, offering his opinion on what needed to be added or removed. Essentially that upset her more and she banned Charles from the kitchen, much to his chagrin. "_If you step foot in this kitchen when I am attempting to perfect this cake, may the good Lord help your soul!"_ He found it terribly funny.

It's not so funny anymore.

"Well?"

"I'm not sure what you are talking about. I've been sitting here, reading the newspaper and-"

His nervous banter was interrupted by her snickering.

"What's so funny?" He straightened up as she walked closer to him, knowing full well what she is capable of when she is angry. She reached her finger up to the corner of his mouth and wiped at it. On the pad of her finger was a glob of chocolate cake batter.

"And this is from..?"

He curled his lips inward trying to suppress a smile. "I'm not sure."

And then she did something that he thought he would never see in his lifetime; she licked the batter off her finger (and he could swear she did it with a hint of seduction.)

"That's actually quite good," she laughed out loud.

"It is very good. Do you know what else is good?" He looked at her with as much seduction as she just gave him. Anticipating a kiss she closed her eyes and readied her lips only to feel the wooden spoon being yanked from her grasp. She let out a sharp gasp and opened her eyes to find Charles already halfway across the room, licking the spoon. "Another heaping glob of the stuff that's what's good."

He took off into the kitchen and she chuckled at his escape.

"Poor soul doesn't know I already put it in the oven."


	3. Restless

**A/N: I know...I fell asleep early the past two nights and didn't work on these prompts. Now I have some catching up to do! This one is set in an AU where they were married right after they became housekeeper and butler, and they are still working in the big house but also have a cottage close by. So this is the younger them.**

She has cleaned the stove. She has cleaned the countertops. She has cleaned the soot from the fireplace. She has dusted each shelf, book, and knick-knack. She has swept the floors. Now, she is on her knees with a pail of water and a rag, washing the floors. It is two o'clock in the morning and she is washing the floors, by candlelight. She is scrubbing furiously over the paths that they walk over the most, removing scuff marks and dirt from outdoors. As she cleans she does not realize that she is leaving droplets of sweat here and there as her muscles ache.

Charles has been hearing her work for the past two hours from his bed, unable to sleep himself. He figured he would let her be, hoping that it acts as some type of therapy for her or tire her out. When he heard the sink run and the pail clank on the floor, he decided that she was going to do more harm than good. He lifted the sheets off of him and sat up in bed. He took a deep breath and stood up, putting on his robe as he walked out of the room.

He found her scrubbing away at the kitchen floor with the bottom of her apron wet with dirty soap water and her hair coming apart like the seams of a dress hem. She was in such a trance that she did not hear him call her name softly. He stepped towards her and knelt on the floor, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Elsie?"

Her hands kept moving in the same rhythmic motion. "Elsie. Please stop and look at me." The brush strokes moved harder and faster. _So she does hear me, but she's just not listening. _He plopped his hand on top of hers and for a few moments they both just looked at the heap of hands, the brush strokes echoing in their memory. She looks up at him with sadness in her eyes but anger in her muscles.

"Charles can't you see I'm trying to clean this house? It was absolutely filthy! It still is absolutely filthy! There is dust and dirt everywhere and no matter how many times I clean it, it still looks dirty! Do you know what it feels like to cl-"

He wraps her in his warmth and she breaks down almost immediately. He lets her cry for a few minutes before he carefully says "Elsie, you are carrying our child. You can not be on your hands and knees working yourself into illness. Not to mention it's 2 o'clock in the morning because we both still have to be housekeeper and butler."

"I know but I am so restless. I feel the need to be moving all the time. I just can't help it. I have seen other women go through pregnancy, including my mother and aunts, with their moods changing and an almost obsessive nature with cleaning. But I never realized how difficult it actually is." Her voice started to waver as she spoke so Charles placed kisses along the crown of her head.

"Why don't I get you to bed so you can rest." He easily picked her up in his arms, much like he did on their wedding day, and brought her to their bedroom, blowing out the candle in the kitchen before walking away. He laid her on her side of the bed and tucked her in. As he was settling himself in he heard her say, "Charles? Please don't let go of me."

"I will hold you for eternity if you want me to."

She nuzzled into his chest as he enveloped her into his love, snoring ever so lightly.


	4. Snowflake

It's been a long and hard winter for Yorkshire as the snow and cold have made all lives miserable. However, the past few days have been unseasonably warm and much of the snow has melted, giving promise to an early spring. That is until tonight, when temperatures have dropped drastically and all of the melted snow has every inch of ground frozen into acres worth of ice rink.

And he is still not back from running the post into town.

It was unusual for him to run the post late in the afternoon but he said something needed to go out urgently from his Lordship and before she said anything to stop him he was out the door.

It's nearly 8:30 now and the winds have picked up, dropping the temperatures further. She opened the servant's door just a crack to see if perhaps he was walking towards the entrance. To her relief there he was, merely 20 meters away.

"Just what are you doing woman? Do you want to want your fingers and nose to fall off?" Mrs. Patmore's shrill somehow managed to screech louder than the wind.

"Mr. Carson is finally back, thank heavens, and now I can give him an ea-" there was a faint thump and grunt that was heard over the wind. Mrs. Hughes whipped her head around to see Mr. Carson sprawled on the ground.

"Mr. Carson!" Mrs. Hughes screamed as she flung the door open and sprinted cautiously outside.

"Are you bonkers woman!" yelled Mrs. Patmore from the door. "You've got no coat on!"

She continued to sprint towards him, avoiding really icy spots while trying to keep an eye on him. He had a hand on his back, bending backward with his face contorted. She made quick timing as she knelt next to him. "Mr. Carson! What happened?"

He opened his eyes and was astonished with who he saw next to him.

"Mrs. Hughes, what are you doing...out here without...a coat?"

"Never mind that! Let's get you up!" He started to sit up and she grabbed his elbow and arm, steadying him as he stood up. He let out an agonizing moan. "Mr. Carson, you can lean into me to ease the pain. We just have to get you across a few meters." To be honest she didn't even feel the cold until they started walking back to the house. The wind picked up and whipped her fury on both of them. Mrs. Hughes' face was reddening and she started shivering uncontrollably. After what seemed like hours, they made it to the door where Mrs. Patmore was waiting with 2 large blankets in her arms. She handed each a blanket as she walked past them to close the door and lock it.

Before Mrs. Patmore could get a word in, Mrs. Hughes ordered, "Mrs. Patmore, could you please get a hot towel for Mr. Carson's back? He fell outside and bruised himself up a bit." She unfolded the blanket and covered his tall frame with it, while Mrs. Patmore did the same for her.

"No no it's quite alright" Mr. Carson said through gritted teeth. "It's not necessary, I'll just have a lie down and - aghh!" A sharp pain interrupted the conversation and he keeled over the counter with his hand on his back once more.

"Mrs. Patmore get something, anything! We'll be in my sitting room." Mrs. Patmore ran off to the laundry room. Mrs. Hughes stood next to Mr. Carson, took his arm and draped it over her shoulder. Then she hugged his torso and they moved in unison to her sitting room.

Thankfully the fire was still going strong so the room was warm enough. They walked to the settee where she helped him sit down. He moaned in pain as he sat but once it dulled it was relieving. She adjusted his blanket and sat next to him.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes?"

"You're shivering. Badly."

She hadn't noticed it at all, being too focused on getting him settled. She held out her hand to see that she was shaking violently. A chill ran through her whole body and she winced in pain, grasping the edges of the blanket and tightly enclosed herself.

Mrs. Patmore knocked and came in with a hot towel, just in time to see Mrs. Hughes shivering episode.

"Oh my Mrs. Hughes. Let me get another blanket and a tea tray. To think, we've got all of the elements of a winter wonderland: ice, wind, cold, falls. We're just missing the snow!"

She's out the door again leaving them both to warm up. Mrs. Hughes was still shivering, so much in fact that her muscles were starting to get stiff and achy. Her teeth actually began chattering.

"Mrs. Hughes, come here." He patted the spot right next to him. She was taken back by his statement but quickly obliged. "I'm afraid you'll fall ill if you don't warm up soon. Here." He held out his arm indicating for her to lean into him. She was so desperate for the shaking to stop that she accepted and he immediately cuddled her with both arms. It took several minutes for her shakes to slow, not yet completely gone away. Her breathing was back to normal.

"Mrs. Hughes, I just want to say thank you for helping me. There was no need for you to run out; you could have sent a hall boy. But who knows how far gone I would have been at that point."

He waited for her response but when he got none he looked down and saw that she had fallen asleep. Smiling to himself and feeling more comfortable than he's ever been, he let his own eyes droop. The last thing he saw was Mrs. Patmore's cheeky grin as she re entered the room.


	5. Haze

**A/N: This one is going back to the AU from Restless. And I'm basically about to ruin it. TW: miscarriage. You are more than welcome to skip this chapter.**

* * *

The room is foggy, at least in Elsie's eyes, and it doesn't make sense. A minute ago she was cuddling on the settee with Charles. She got up to use the bathroom and… well now she's on the floor. She swears there's two of Charles and she reaches up for one of them only to grasp air. She closes her eyes and shakes her head a little, attempting to get rid of the haze but when she opens her eyes it only caused more blurriness. She started gasping to hold back sobs and she can hear Charles but his voice seems so muffled.

"Elsie... Elsie dear stay with me. I need to call for Dr. Clarkson. Just breathe; you're going to be alright."

Are those tears she sees falling down his face? Where did he say he was going?

She became frantic without his presence and she tried to sit up only to be met with sharp pains in her abdomen. She laid on her side, curling into herself, but she slipped on something warm and wet.

Blood.

_No. No, no, no. This can't__be happening. This isn't__what it seems. We are supposed to be a happy family. We are supposed to be happy._

"CHARLES!" she screamed, full panic attack ensuing. He rushed back to her side only to halt at the amount of blood. All color drained from his face as he put the pieces together.

_We are so close to starting a family, this can't be__ happening. This can not…_

Charles was brought back to reality with her agonizing groan. She was sobbing so hard that she was struggling to breathe. He brought himself down to her and put her head in his lap, trying to be strong and comfort her. He couldn't do it, and together they both released their sadness, their grief, and their anger.


	6. Flame

**A/N: Yeah…sorry about the last one. This one is a continuation of Snowflake, and definitely not as angsty as Haze.**

She is on fire. Or she feels like she is. Did she fall asleep next to the fireplace? She can swear there are flames licking at her cheeks.

She opens her eyes to find blankets mostly and something heavy over her shoulders. Memories of what happened came back to her: the blustery wind, the ice, him falling outside, her falling into his arms…

She has no idea what time is was, only that it is still dark out and the fire is at its ending stages. She glances up to see his beautiful face well relaxed, sleeping soundly. _I could get used to this _she thought, as she smiles to herself.

But all of a sudden it got cold, and the chill in her spine reverberates through her body, causing her to shiver violently again. Her shakes stir him awake and he unconsciously grips her tightly to him.

"Mrs. Hughes, it seems we have fallen asleep in a compromising way. I do apologize."

She only nods and he notices how hard she is convulsing.

"Mrs. Hughes, are you not warm?"

"I was feeling so hot...and now I feel…so cold…" Her teeth are chattering and Mr. Carson is experiencing déjà vu. He feels her head and it feels like flames are tickling his hand.

"Mrs. Hughes, I think you are running a high fever. Let's get you up to your room and I'll have Barrow call for Dr. Clarkson."

She wants to tell him no, not to worry, she'll sleep it off. She doesn't have the energy to speak and she can't even reach out to grab Mr. Carson's outreached hand. His eyes worry into hers as he bends down and wraps his arms around her shoulder and lifts her from the settee. She leans into him unexpectedly but he holds her weigh and they take slow steps out of the sitting room.

Luckily at that moment, Mrs. Patmore is walking down the corridor. She is about to say something snarky when she catches Elsie's blushed, tired face. She looks at Mr. Carson for an explanation.

"Mrs. Patmore I believe Mrs. Hughes is running a high fever. I'm going to help her up to her bedroom. If you could tell Barrow to call for Dr. Clarkson and perhaps meet me upstairs with water and towels? We have to get her fever down."

"I told her not to go outside without her coat" stated Mrs. Patmore plainly as she takes off to follow orders.

**A/N: I most definitely will be continuing this story later on somewhere, somehow. Because Carson taking care of Hughes is something we have yet to see on the show ****J**


	7. Formal

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews and support. So far so good!**

She made the first move. She figured he made such a gallivant effort to orchestrate the "business venture" and now the proposal, that it was her turn to thank him. Thank him for such an overwhelming sense of surprise and delight. Plus, the old booby was so entranced by the whole ordeal that he could barely move.

It was just a peck on the lips… at first. He was strictly just on the receiving end as wasn't in reality to do much else. She really didn't mind; she was reveling in the fact that she just kissed him on the lips and they felt _fantastic. _She looked up at him, giddy as girl and saw the moment when he snapped back to the present. There was euphoria in the air and she used it to her advantage to kiss him again.

This time, she went at him with just a tad bit more fervor. The feeling of her lips on his was so addicting, and the yearning for him was sparking something that she wasn't familiar with. But once again, he was in a trance and didn't reciprocate. She became a little worried, and felt a slight pang of disappointment. _Is he alright?_

"Mr. Carson…" she began, but he interrupted her.

"Oh Mr. Carson? Are we going to stick with formalities for the rest of our lives? I hope not." He cupped her face and kissed her properly, like in the many dreams she's had about this very moment. She thought just kissing him, without kissing back, was magical. But this…

Now she was the one in a trance.


	8. Companion

**A/N: Behind again! This is going to be a normal occurrence****lol. I will post Move later tonight.**

It had been a lovely evening for Charles and Elsie. The family is spending the weekend in London, something about "getting away" for a few days, leaving the staff with some much desired time off. The newly married couple decided to dine out, "nowhere too fancy" Elsie had said, hoping for a light and casual end to their day. So The Grantham Arms was quickly decided on and they were off.

They had indulged themselves to say the least; not only with food but with their affection as well. They weren't so public with their affections, but they did share tight embraces on the walk in, short little hugs, door holding and hand touching. They laughed, they whispered, they shared musings with one another. It really was as if they had already been married for years.

A few hours went by so easily, and it was Charles looked at his pocket watch and realized it was getting late. He paid for their meals and they departed into the nippy winter air.

"Blast."

"Let me take a wild guess. You dropped one of your gloves on the way out here."

"Elsie my dear, it's like you've known me all of your life."

"I think it's more of you do it almost every time we leave any establishment." She tried to hide her playfulness behind fake anger, but it was proving very difficult, as the corners of her mouth were battling itself.

"Well maybe if you hadn't insisted on getting home so quickly so we could cuddle by the fire I would have taken my time," Charles stated, giving the same expression as Elsie gave him. "I think I may have dropped it when I stood up from the table. I'll be back in just a moment." He gave her arm a squeeze before turning around and heading back to the entrance.

As Charles opened the door a drunken man stumbled out, almost colliding with Charles. Elsie saw Charles give him a scowl before passing him and entering while shaking his head with disapproval. She smiled as she saw the butler persona appear; he never was one who had patience with shenanigans.

The man wobbled his way towards Elsie and she busied herself with the stars in the sky. _Surely he's just heading home and he won't bother with me._

"Hey pretty lady!" _Or not._

She pretended not to hear him and continued to look at the stars, finding interesting patterns.

"I said hello pretty lady!"

_That one looks like a rose, similar to the ones that grow in the gardens during springtime. And that one looks like a Christmas tree…if Christmas trees were short and wide..._

"Aye! Why are you ignoring me?"

He fell into her, grabbing her arm while doing so, with enough force to knock them both down. However, this man severely underestimated Elsie's strength as his weight only made her take a step back and use his force to fling him away.

"Get off you numpty!" The Scottish Dragon was unleashing herself now.

"Oh a bonnie lassie are we? Straight from Scotland! Why would your companion leave you out here like this? He don't know what he's doing! Good thing I do!" He was struggling with his speech, slurring nearly every word. Yet, the last sentence came out clear as day. He clutched her jaw and was leaning in for a kiss when she backhanded him. She sent him right to the ground spewing obscenities mixed with spit.

"Fiery are we? Yer gonna pay for that one!" He got up much more swiftly than a drunk man should with his fist thrown back. Elsie prepared herself for a painful blow when Charles' fist collided with the man's nose. For the second time the man was on the ground, this time coughing blood. Charles bent down and viciously said, "Her _husband_ is right here, and I very well know what I'm doing."

Charles' anger dissipated immediately as he scanned Elsie, noticing no obvious injuries besides a small mark on her jaw. One hand was on her stomach while the other over her mouth, a bit shocked at what her husband just did.

"Charles. Did you…did you just _punch_ that man?"

"I did. Did you slap that man, sending him to the ground?"

She let out a small breath. "I did, didn't I." She was still in shock and Charles put his hand softly on her arm to comfort her.

"I would say it was very well deserved. Only an absolute fool plays with my Scottish Dragon."

The corners of her mouth were fighting with each other again as a smile slowly formed. He hugged her and planted a kiss in her hair. "Let's walk back home, I'll give you that cuddle you've been waiting for."

They walked side by side with his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him. She looked down at his gloved hand to see blood stains on it.

"Charles?"

"Yes love."

"The glove that you went back to get? It has blood on it."

He stopped them and let go, inspecting it for himself. He sighed as he took off the glove and shoved it in his pocket.

Elsie bit her lip to hide a smile. "I'll buy you a new pair darling. It will be your reward for saving me."

Charles smirked at her remark and retorted, "If possible, I have a different reward in mind."

**A/N: Numpty is a Scottish insult that means idiot. When I researched insults there were many, but numpty just seemed like something our Elsie would say. **


	9. Move

**A/N: Thanks so much for following along and reviewing! It means so much to me considering I think my writing is pretty crappy compared to most amazing writers on here.**

"Charles, if you do not move yourself from that doorway, I might just scream."

She's furious. Irate. Annoyed. She had come into his pantry to vent about the newest housemaid. He hadn't quite understood everything as half of what she spoke consisted of Gaelic insults or phrases. Charles did pick up on "flirting with the hall boy" and "not enough time working." She has been quite strung since they began planning for their wedding, stress increasing day by day. She was ready to go back out and give her another earful but he didn't think she had her right mind just yet.

"Elsie you are still much too angry. You will make that poor housemaid run right out of this house and never come back."

"Serves her right! I told not once but _several_ times to clean the cobwebs from the guest bedroom. I don't think you understand my absolute fury when I did my rounds right before Mr. Blake arrived and found the room untouched! Her hands may not have been cleaning the room, but I certainly know where they were!"

Her face was flushed and her rhythmic breathing turned sporadic while she looked off into space.

"Elsie, you need to calm down." As soon as he said the words he regretted it immediately. Didn't his Lordship joke with him once about how to handle a marriage? One of the things being never to tell your wife to calm down? He squinted his eyes at the illumination of her wrath. She cocked her head a few degrees to the left and licked her lips, hands turning white as she balled them into fists.

"Did you tell me to calm down?"

"Elsie-"

"How am I supposed to be calm when I have a housemaid running around doing heavens knows what—no, I know what she's _doing_! I don't live in a sack! I ran into the room with a duster, crawling into spaces to make sure it was vacant from tiny critters just mere minutes before Mr. Blake appeared. Can you imagine if I hadn't seen that and he walked into a room looking like that!?"

Charles had no idea how he was going to get her down from this high point; she was so far gone into rage. What he did know was that he could not let her leave the room like that. All hell would break loose.

"I am going to ask you one last time," began Elsie, voice almost as deep as her fiancée's, "to move away from the door."

Charles was barely looking at her, not really sure what to do next. What caught his eye, however, was the little spider that was crawling up from her back onto her left shoulder. It stopped right at the top of her shoulder, looking like it was her subconscious that told her moral right from wrong.

"Elsie. Don't move."

"Why not? Are you-" She noticed his slight shift of vision and followed his gaze to her shoulder where a little spider was found staring right at her. She let out a shriek as she swatted at it, which only caused it to fall down the front of her dress. She skipped backwards to put distance between herself and the apparently vicious creature only to knock into the arm of the settee, landing back first on it. She heard Charles' foot stomp on the floor and the danger was gone. He slowly walked over to her, failing to hold back a fit of laughter. After a minute of laughing hysterically and wiping his tears away he saw her still laying there and crying tears of her own, but not from laughter.

Charles felt a pang of panic as this was the second time in five minutes that he said or did the wrong thing. He knelt by her and said, "Elsie dear are you hurt? Where?" He inspected her head as it was hazardously close to the other arm of the settee. She shook her head and covered her face with her hands. He took that cue and engulfed her with his cuddle. He stood just enough so he could sit on the settee and bring her to sit on his lap. She surprised him by lifting her head up.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For being so angry and impossible to be around. Our wedding is causing me so much stress, and I'm not sure why; everything is going smoothly."

"I think just the mere event is stressful enough. It's understandable considering I feel it too."

"But you can at least keep it to yourself. I'm scaring everyone off."

"I am more than happy to be on the receiving end of your venting. No matter what."

She smiled at him, the smile turning crooked as she said "I don't think you know what you just agreed to."

"To be stuck with you. I thought I had already said that, some few months ago."

Her chuckling was music to his ears; she nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

"You know you can talk to me about your stresses at any time as well. Or anything on your mind for that matter."

"In that case can we discuss the flowers you chose for the wedding?"

She hit him playfully on his chest before nuzzling back into his embrace.


	10. Silver

**A/N: This one goes back to the young, married AU from Restless and Haze. No warnings here, although it mentions a bit about what happened. This is more of the emotional aftermath; so if you are feeling vulnerable, skip this.**

It has been exactly one year since they lost their child. He remembered every detail of that day.

By the time Dr. Clarkson arrived there was nothing he could do but make sure that Elsie was not bleeding out more than she should. After examining her, it was determined that the process was complete and that she should clean up and get bed rest for at least a week. The trauma from her fall was the reason for it but Dr. Clarkson was certain that if they wanted to try again, she would be able to carry the child with no difficulty.

Charles regained his composure enough to lift his wife from the ground and carry her to the bathroom where he prepared a bath for her. She did not move much, just a little here and there when Charles was bathing under her arms or legs. She had stopped crying but was not talking; just a stoic body with a pulse, staring holes into the walls.

He washed her with such gentleness and care, draining out the red tinged water and refilling the tub with fresh warmth. He untangled her hair, careful not to pull on the knots and filled a bucket with bathwater. Creating a waterfall he doused her hair, not letting any get in her eyes. He scrubbed every inch that was stained with blood and replaced it with the soft lavender scent of the soap. He wanted to get rid of any indication, any trigger, of what she went through.

Done with the bath he empties the tub and lifts her up to sit her on the chair he pulled from the corner of the room. Using the softest towels they owned, he dried her off lightly but quickly to prevent the cold October air from chilling her. He plaited her hair the best he could using his own observations of her nearly every night. Charles went their bedroom to look for a warm nighty and dressing gown. He almost left the room before grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed.

He found her as he left her, slightly slouched in the chair and staring out the window. Without saying a word he dressed her, wrapped her in the blanket and once again lifted her into his arms and brought her to bed.

Dr. Clarkson, feeling absolutely guilty and sorrowful, took it upon himself to clean the remnants of her pregnancy so neither would have to do it. It was bad enough that they had to watch their future disappear; they shouldn't have to relive the whole ordeal by cleaning. After he was done he wrote a quick note to Charles and left it on the dining table, not wanting to disturb their grieving process, and left.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent crying into each other's arms, short naps and awful nightmares. They were utterly exhausted.

He finds her now in the same place as that night, taking a nap on their bed. He crawls on top to her sleeping body and places a tender kiss in her hair. She stirs, as he hoped she would, and smiles; the first thing she sees is his beautiful face.

"How long have I been sleeping?" she asks, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes.

"Just for a bit. I hope you have a bit of your energy back."

She sits up as she speaks, "If I were to be honest, I feel the same as when I went down."

He puts his hand on top of hers and the action causes her to look at him with worry. "Is something the matter?"

"I wanted…I…I got you something." His nerves are evident and her interest is peaking. She just raises her eyebrows in response.

He reveals the small black box from behind his back and gives it to her. She gives him a quick look before opening it to discover a simple silver necklace with small, round pendant. Engraved on the pendant was the intricate Celtic symbol for motherhood, with one dot in the first loop. A tear falls from her eye and joins the pendant, magnifying the dot.

"It's our child's first birthday," he says somberly, hoping that his gift is not upsetting her.

"It's… gorgeous Charles." She's breathing heavy as she tries to say words before she breaks down completely. "It is absolutely magnificent." She lets her emotions go and weeps, Charles' arms instantly swoops her. They weep together over what could have been but also because of the joy and love that they share with each other and how lucky they truly are.

"We will be just fine love. I think we'll be just fine."

**A/N: The symbol is really pretty and if you want to see it you can Google "Celtic symbol for motherhood." You add a dot in the symbol for each child that you have. So as you're popping them out, you add dots haha.**


	11. Prepared

**A/N: Here we have the AU from Snowflake. This is a continuation of Flame. I kinda like having these AUs to drift back and forth to…**

He has the wash basin filled with cold water. He has a couple of towels. He has a pitcher of water paired with a glass. He has a tea tray. He has a blanket. He has his ledgers from downstairs. He has a book. He has an extra pillow. In terms of technicality, he is prepared; except he isn't.

After the struggle to get to her bedroom Mrs. Patmore changed Elsie into a clean gown, a process which took some time because Elsie was losing more and more of her consciousness to the fever. She was more like dead weight, and although Mrs. Patmore is resilient with her words, she's not so much with her muscles. She did succeed though, and a tense Mr. Carson was called into the room once she was tucked in bed.

She looked completely different than a few hours before; her face was flushed like someone had brushed a rose along her cheeks, her hair looked as though she had spent a day by the sea side with tendrils flowing down in frizzy waves, her skin shone like polished silver from her perspiration. The fever was completely taking over.

Dr. Clarkson came and almost immediately diagnosed her with pneumonia and a possible touch of the flu. _"She will need to be watched for the next few days, because it is going to be a long, hard battle."_ Mrs. Patmore had volunteered to stay with her but Mr. Carson quickly made his case, thanking her but saying she was much more needed in the kitchen and he promised to take care of her.

"_Do you know what you're doing Mr. Carson?"_

_"__Do I know what I'm doing? Mrs. Patmore, I am marrying this woman. I think I know how to care for her."_

Except now he realizes he told a blatant lie. He's never done this before, but he hopes his love for her will guide him. Her slight stirring catches his attention and he moves to take the towel from her head, submerging it in the basin and wringing out the excess. He places the back of his hand on her forehead, frown emerging when she still feels as hot as she did twenty minutes ago. Replacing his hand with the cold towel he grabs another and submerges that one as well, not wringing out as much water. He lifts her head a bit and rubs the back of her neck with the towel; Dr. Clarkson had said that back of the neck was one of a few "cooling" places. He slides the towel to wipe her neck and chest, offering her at least a few seconds of relief from the heat.

Dipping it one last time in the basin, he lifts her head again and leaves the towel there. He opts for taking her hand in his as he sits beside her on the bed, watching her chest work harder to exhale hoarse breaths. From the corner of his eye he can see the sun begin to set as she begins a coughing fit. _This is going to be one difficult night._

**A/N: I've****had pneumonia and the flu before at the same time. Let's just say I'd buy stock in Tamiflu.**


	12. Knowledge

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! This one continues from the previous one. Angst warning.**

Charles Carson considers himself to be a very knowledgeable man. Despite leaving school at a young age to enter service, he learned a lot from the butler he served under. He taught him basic arithmetic, writing and reading; all things the butler didn't have to do but did, because he had a soft spot for him. Charles knows all the gossip of the town and even the city, thanks to being present at the dining table upstairs and downstairs, along with tidbits from Mrs. Hughes. He knows all the horrors and delights of working on stage, from cheering audiences to drunken backstage arguments. He even knows a bit about…_lying_ _in bed_ with another woman, not by his own accord but of what he witnessed or heard. He now even knows about love, in spite of taking nearly two decades to realize it.

What he doesn't know is how to play tug-of-war with death in regards to his ill-stricken fiancé.

As soon as night fell, her coughing spells became more frequent and more violent. Charles had to prop her up on pillows so she could sit up and breathe, for lying down was too constricting for her lungs. She had a fair share of hallucinations, along with moments of lucidity. She didn't talk, she moaned and groaned. If she did speak, it was in whispers and Charles had to lean in close to hear her. He took advantage of those moments by having her drink water, but so far he could only get her to drink half a glass. The fever was still the same as earlier and it didn't seem like it was going to let go anytime soon.

He's sitting right next to her bed, hand caressing her cheek as she sleeps blissfully. She hasn't coughed or made any sounds in about an hour, and Charles is glad she is getting some rest.

"Keep fighting love. You've made it this far. I'll be here with you the whole time. I have been…"

She moves her head so her cheek is nestling in his palm. He's touched by her bittersweet movement. He relishes in the fact that this was her way of responding to him, that she'd heard him.

"No…" It's a loud whisper and Charles is startled by it.

_Did she just say no? _he thinks to himself. _Is she saying no to fighting it? Is she saying she's giving up?_

"Elsie, listen to me."

"No." She's speaking clearly now; her eyebrows furrowing in her sleep. They loosen and her breathing hitches. "Anna, I'm so sorry, so so sorry. I wish I could do more." She's crying now and her heavy breaths are condensing on his hand.

"Shh Elsie." He's petting her head soothingly while whispering to her. He thinks she's calming down a bit until everything flips completely.

She jerks her head to the opposite side, hyperventilating. Her back arches and she tilts away from him shrieking louder and louder. "No! Mr. Green please no! Let her go, please don't hurt her! PLEASE!"

Mr. Carson doesn't know what to do; seeing her thrash about screaming things he's never heard of. Him saying her name is not helping at all and he is trying to process the hallucination that she's having. Something about Mr. Green and Anna, and her trying to stop Mr. Green from doing something. It is so puzzling to him that he sits there in confusion. She's getting dangerously close to falling off the other side of the bed and he grabs her arms and gently flips her on her back. She backhands his chest and continues her panic.

"Mr. Green let her be! Leave her! Come after me if you must but just LEAVE HER!"

The image of her on the bed is heartbreaking enough, but now her words are just shattering it into pieces. _What are you saying Elsie? Why are you seeing Mr. Green? Why are-?_

But then it dawns on him; the Bates' initial tension, the ordeal with Mr. Green's death, Anna's arrest, Mr. Bates's disappearance. Something horrific happened between Anna and Green, and she knows. _And she was willing to sacrifice herself for it._

She's weeping uncontrollably and coughing in a way that sounds like her lungs are about to give up. He grasps her shoulders and holds her to the bed. "Elsie stop! It's a nightmare! Wake up dear I am here with you! Wake up, wake UP!" His efforts prove somewhat successful as she stops twisting beneath him. Instead she is just falling into another horrendous fit from the pneumonia. Grabbing under her arms he pulls her up to a sitting position and places a cold towel on her forehead. He uses another to wipe away the aftermath of her hallucination. Her clothes are now damp with perspiration, twisted around her waist with the hem lifted high from moving.

_She looks like a rag doll that has been overplayed with, _he states to himself, letting out a sigh of relief when her coughing subsides. _Maybe I don't know as much as I thought I did._

**A/N: Things have to get worse before they get better. That's what they say right?**


	13. Denial

**A/N: So sorry for the delay in postings. I spent my Valentine's Day working a double and today I worked again and took a three hour nap. So now I have to play catch up again! Anyway, here we are back to the AU of our young and married couple. No angst this time. It goes up from here ****J**

Charles found her sitting at the dining table, pot of tea off to the side and a cup prepared in front of her. She has her head in her hands, breathing in the steam from the tea. It is just past 3 o'clock in the morning.

"Elsie? I heard you run to the bathroom." His voice, usually so gentle and soothing, causes her to groan. He slides a chair over to where she is, her face crinkling from the noise that adds to her headache.

"You really should let me call Dr. Clarkson. This has been happening all week."

"Charles no, I don't need him."

"You've been pale, weak and tired. You barely eat, and every morning you run to the bathroom and empty whatever you do eat."

He's always so worried about her, cares so deeply for her. She meets his gaze to find that still true. He looks as though he might break into tears any moment. He's kept a very watchful eye on her since their loss; every sign of distress or illness he is at her side. She doesn't have the heart to tell him to stop distressing so much for she knows he does it out of immense fear. They've had many talks and cries over it.

But this time she's smiling into her hands. She doesn't mean to; she's not tickled by his concern. She's smiling because he can't see the reason why she's ill. _He's so worried about my symptoms that he's not looking at the big picture, especially considering this happened the first time._

Charles is not at all pleased by her carelessness of the situation. "Why are you laughing? This isn't funny in the least bit! You're obviously ill and refusing to see the doctor. Something could be seriously wrong and we haven't spent enough time together and I'm afraid of los-" Elsie places her thumb on his lips to stop his ranting. Tears are pooling in his eyes and she wants to save him from himself.

"I was going to wait a little longer before I told you but I'm quite anyway. What I've been experiencing is morning sickness. Charles, I'm with child." She suppresses a chuckle watching his face drop with realization of her words.

"With child…are you sure?"

This time she lets out the hearty laugh. "Oh of course I'm sure! A woman knows when she's pregnant, and I felt the same way with…" Now it's Elsie's turn to be somber. Charles cups her subdued look in his hands and gives her a quick kiss.

"Elsie I am so incredibly delighted. Everything will work out fine, and soon enough you will be holding our child in your arms as I watch the beauty of mother and child while thanking the Lord for the both of you."

She falls into his chest and he holds her tightly, both acknowledging the absolute happiness they feel but neither expressing the lingering anguish of the past and the uncertainties for the future.


	14. Wind

**A/N: Trying my best to catch up! Here we are switching back to the "Elsie is so very sick and Charles is taking such good care of her" AU ;)**

It is nearly 4 in the morning and Charles is pondering the mental state that he's in. He has never been so exhausted yet so utterly awake in his life. His body yearns for rest but his heart and mind are battling with distressing thoughts, keeping him alert. She has not had a hallucination since the previous one, and it really did seem like she is properly resting. He changes the towels every half hour or so in an attempt to beat the fever. Although she still felt as though she is on fire, it is more of a dying fire now; more of a warmth of embers than the scorch of a flame. Still, there is presence of a fever and like a soldier in the front lines, Charles is not going to stop now. He is so close to defeating the enemy.

She groans softly and he is at her side, grasping her hand. "Charles? Ah Charles." A moment of consciousness that is accompanied by his sigh of relief.

"I'm here Elsie." She opens her eyes and is met with his face illuminated by candlelight. She's thankful for the low lighting of the room as her head feels like imprisoned men are beating at the walls of their cells.

"It's so warm," she manages to dictate in raspy whispers. She swallows thickly and Charles takes that as a cue. He reaches for the glass of water and shows it to her. She nods once and he tilts the cup to her lips. He doesn't bother wiping the droplets that escape from the side of her mouth and down her neck. He watches as she closes her eyes and swallows, wincing slightly at the feeling of the cold water coaxing her scratchy throat.

Outside Mother Nature teases the nightly air with sudden breezes, the one thing that has been comforting Charles throughout the night. He thinks of the many times they traveled arm in arm to church or events. He can feel the weight of her in his right arm and looks down out of habit. His gaze stops upon his right hand and quickly moves to the left as the memory of the sea side floods his thoughts. Her bare feet in the water, hat slightly askew upon her head, sleeves rolled up, hand tempting his. He feels a sudden need to open the window and let the wind enter the room and dance across his skin. In a swift motion the window is up and the breeze tumbles into the stifling air. Charles returns to his love, surprised to find her right hand outstretched and waiting for his. Their hands unite and they both succumb to the allure of those memories.


	15. Order

**A/N: I'm going to try to challenge myself here and only do dialogue (or for the most part). This is going to be interesting…**

"Charles didn't you just leave my sitting room a minute ago?"

"Yes, and in that minute I managed to enter my pantry, sit at my desk and instantly realize that it has been rearranged. This is the third incident this week of someone entering my pantry and moving my belongings!"

"Just what exactly has moved?"

"My inkwell is to the left of my desk instead of the right."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'? It flusters me."

"Your inkwell being to your left instead of your right flusters you?"

"It's more of the fact that someone has been in my pantry, possibly snooping around!"

"What if, _perhaps,_ you placed it to your left and you don't remember? An inkwell is hardly something to get red in the face about."

"But as I've just said, it's not about the inkwell. How would you explain my wine ledgers and picture frames then?"

"With the same reason. As I've said before, we are getting older…"

"That might work with the wine ledgers but not the picture frames! I don't go about switching them around every day."

"So are you saying that you don't look at our wedding picture every day?"

"Now Elsie that's not what I said. Maybe I am starting to lose my mind. Let me go decant the wine for dinner before I forget _that_."

_(He was almost out the door when he whipped around with suspicion.)_

"This wouldn't have anything to do with your toaster that I accidently broke would it?"

"The toaster that you broke? No my dear. That was an _accident_, 'a mere misjudgment of time' as you put it. Maybe you're right about not getting a new one, even though they are much improved now. Anyhow, you best get to the wine; there's not much time until dinner!"

_(Confusion and doubt plastered on his face, he left her sitting room.)_

"Oh just a few more readjusting here and there and he will be buying me a new toaster in no time."

**A/N: Reading this over again I kind of like just the dialogue. It lets your mind figure out the setting and body language and reactions. Try reading it over again with a different reactions and what not. Go on, I dare ya ;**_)_


	16. Thanks

**A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews and continued support. Here we are back to Charles and sick Elsie. This is more Charles and Beryl than Charles and Elsie but it's oh so sweet.**

Charles awoke a few hours later to Mrs. Patmore's gentle knocking. When she didn't hear him respond she opened the door slowly to see him rub his eyes and try to stand up, only to sit back down with the forgotten pain of his injury.

"Oh Mr. Carson it's just me," she stated in a hushed tone, tea tray in hand. "Did you not tell Dr. Clarkson of your back?"

"Mrs. Hughes was in a much more compromising illness than my sore back Mrs. Patmore." He looked at her in annoyance to see that she was looking at Mrs. Hughes and not paying attention to a word he was saying. She could hear him, but she wasn't really listening. Her expression of concern made his tone soften. "To be honest I didn't even feel it until right now. My focus was on Elsie."

She set the tray on top of the night stand. "How is she? How did she fare through the night?" Mrs. Patmore placed the back of her hand upon her friend's cheek and felt the warmness. Mrs. Hughes was still breathing heavy, her cheeks still flushed, hair entangled in mess, nightgown damp with sweat. Mrs. Patmore held Elsie's hand with both of hers, waiting for Mr. Carson's answer.

"It was a trying night, to say the least. Her fever caused many hallucinations, some more severe than others…" His words trailed off and Mrs. Patmore could see that he was hurting deeply. "There was one point where it was violent, and she was lashing about uncontrollably..." Mr. Carson was no longer meeting Mrs. Patmore's eyes, but looking at the space behind her. Mrs. Patmore was at Mr. Carson's side in an instant just as he sniffled and bit back a sob. Beryl knelt down in front of him and held his hands as he spoke.

"She seems better now but last night…last night was so frightening. Quite honestly I thought she was going to be taken away from me. Just to think, all of the time I lost with her, afraid of asking for her to be my wife sooner. And now when I finally do so, she's whisked away from me." His head drops as tears join their entwined hands.

"Now Mr. Carson she's not gone. She's still very much with us."

"But that hasn't stopped death before has it? This house has been ravaged by untimely passings and I can't help but think that she could very well be the next one."

"I think you've forgotten that this is Elsie Hughes we're talking about. She's got a lot of fight in her, something all of Downton has seen. Not only that but she's got the love of her life taking care of her, and her need to be with you is also aiding her recovery. She will come out of this Mr. Carson, and I know deep down inside you do believe it as well."

The pair sat in silence listening to Mrs. Hughes breathe while praying for the strength of not only their friend, but for each other.

"Well Mr. Carson," the cook began, wiping at a stray tear. "Dr. Clarkson should be here shortly to check on her. Barrow told the family last night after he telephoned for the doctor, and I will try to keep them at bay for as long as I can. They'll want to see you though, I'm sure."

Charles nodded, fishing for his handkerchief in his pocket.

"I think it might be best if you go and freshen yourself up. I'll stay here and get her washed before the doctor comes. She'll feel better after getting cleaned I'm sure. And you should get a bite or two in ya. We can't have you taking care of her and getting sick yourself."

Normally he wouldn't agree to any suggestion that required leaving her side but the idea of getting her in a new gown and cleaned was something that even he didn't think of. "Mrs. Patmore, I think I'll do just that." He began to get up and buckled with pain again. Mrs. Patmore's hand took hold of his elbow and guided him to a standing position. He gathered his books to take down with him, shuffling slowly towards the door. He opened the door but turned around with his hand still on the handle.

"Mrs. Patmore? Thank you."


	17. Look

"Oh I love that look."

Elsie Carson jumped at the sound of her husband's voice, nearly running her pen across the page of her accounting book. She supported her forehead in her hand while her heart rate slowed to normal. "Just how long have you been standing in my doorway staring at me?" There was aggravation in her voice, no doubt about that. Charles entered her sitting room and closed the door behind him. He took a seat in front of her desk.

"You nearly ruined my accounting books. Is there something you needed?"

"Not particularly."

She eyed him quizzically, brows furrowed and head cocked to the side.

"I love that look as well."

"What are these looks that you keep talking about?"

His face softened as he observed her expression. She felt the ambiance of the room change.

"Well I was walking to my pantry when I decided to peek through the door and give you a quick hello. But I saw that you were hard at work, counting and writing. Your head was down a bit but I could see the concentration in your eyes, the way your jaw clenched as you thought about the solution to the problem or miscalculation, the wrinkling of your eyebrows. Not to mention the wrath your bottom lip has seen from your worried teeth." He leaned over her desk and caressed her face. "That is just one of the many looks of Elsie Carson that I love."

She gawked at him, completely surprised as to where this conversation ended. She couldn't possibly imagine why she deserved such a man like Charles but she was glad he was hers. She leaned over just enough to give him a tender kiss. She parted from him and heard his sigh of content, eyes closed and his lips slowly curling upwards.

"And that, Charles, is one of my favorite looks of yours."

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick little tid bit for you to read before you fall asleep. Hope it starts some lovely dreams for you all. :)**


	18. Summer

**A/N: And here we are back to Charles taking caring of Elsie.**

* * *

It's been two days since the onset of Elsie's illness and Charles had actually gotten a good night's rest. He had been nursing her almost every minute, minus those when he freshened himself up, or when Mrs. Patmore was fixing up Elsie. Dr. Clarkson has visited daily to check on his patient. Much to Charles's relief, Dr. Clarkson had informed him that the worst was over but she would still need rest because of her coughing spells and nausea.

_"__She's also going to be very weak, having been bed ridden. As soon as she feels up to it, try to get her to walk to gain some strength back. She shouldn't walk alone, even to the bathroom, because she could easily become dizzy and fall. The sooner you get her moving, the better it will be for her, just don't push her."_

Charles brought her up a breakfast tray with food for both. Although she was eating, it wasn't as much as he would like her to. Some nibbles of toast here, some spoonfuls of eggs there; at least she was enjoying her tea. Her fever had broken and there were no more violent dreams or hallucinations. She was tired, of course, and napped a few times throughout the day but besides that she was alert.

They finished eating in silence, neither one wanting to interrupt the pleasant breakfast atmosphere. But Elsie could see that he wanted to ask something and he was holding back.

"Charles, thank you for bringing me breakfast. However, there is something I need you to do for me."

"Anything."

"Tell me what's on your mind."

Oh but he can't do that. She is still not well enough to ask her if she remembers _that_ hallucination. He can't ask what he did to Anna, what she knew, if he did anything to _her. _He doesn't want to set her backwards just as she is getting better.

"It's nothing. Just my mind wandering away from me."

"You are a hopeless liar." She raised her eyebrows, solidifying her statement.

"Well I...um…I…" He had to come up with something quickly. He looked down at her hand and the memory that brought him to sleep a few nights ago came back to him. "Well, I was thinking about when our wedding should be and… perhaps we can discuss it?"

She nodded as she took a sip of tea, urging him to go on.

"I know we talked about not putting a rush on our marriage, but with you falling ill it has made recognize the fact that we really are getting on. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate every single moment I have with you but I would rather cherish those moments calling you my wife; to hold you, kiss you, appease you as my wife."

Her hand magnetized to his as his touching words entered her heart. "When were you thinking?"

"Summer- early June, before it gets to be too stifling."

"I do love the summer. Lots of sunshine, cool nights to spend taking a walk through the gardens."

"So it's settled then."

"June."


	19. Transformation

**A/N: I'm going to TRY to do this entirely in Charles' POV. Who knows if it will actually come through haha. Back to the first AU of the young Carsons.**

* * *

Pregnancy is a beautiful thing, at least from what I can see. I know that the beginning stages are not so pleasant, with the nausea and fluctuating of moods. You have told me that experiencing it first hand is quite different than witnessing another woman else go through it and you cannot be more correct. If I spoke this aloud you would certainly give me a good whack on the arm. But if I were to be honest, it's very true.

I was at Downton when her Ladyship was with Mary and his Lordship was just as fussy as I am with you. At the time I couldn't fathom it; yes, she was with child and she was to be careful but I didn't comprehend his Lordship's need to smother her when she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Now, however, I completely understand his incessant need to keep her safe. I will not lie, I'm afraid of every step you take, of things not in our control taking away our child again. I pray daily for this child and for us…surely God wouldn't be so cruel twice?

What I ponder the most is your physical transformation, especially when we are alone and I can truly look at you. The most obvious is the swelling of your belly; the perfect curvature that mathematicians have been studying for decades. It's perfectionism at its finest. The way your dresses drape over, your nightgown caressing it as if it knows to be gentle because there is a life inside.

At night when you are sleeping soundly next to me, and moon is shining just right through the window, you _glow._ It sounds so silly but you become luminescent. And the feeling of your skin…I've never felt anything like it. Your skin is always so indulgent but now it's like I'm embracing a cloud. Your hair is lighter somehow, whether from the baby or the sunlight I'm not sure, but when we're going for walks I can see a different spectrum of color embedded in your hair.

I know you hate it when I gaze at you, as you've caught me a number of times and scolded me for it (playfully usually). But then if you could see yourself through my eyes, and feel what I feel when I look at you then you would know why. Maybe one day I'll be able to express this to you, but for now I'll keep it to myself and continue watching you blossom.


	20. Tremble

**A/N: I'm not going to make this a smut fest like most people would probably take this prompt, not that there's anything wrong with that! I just can't do smutty deliciousness lol. Here we are with Charles taking care of Elsie.**

* * *

"Charles I'll be right back."

"Where do you think you're going?"

It has only been a day since Dr. Clarkson had told Charles of her recovery process and that she should get moving, but most definitely not by herself.

"I have to use the bathroom. I feel quite well, I think I can manage."

"But Dr. Clarkson said-"

"I know what Dr. Clarkson said," she replied sharply. "I don't feel dizzy, I actually feel better than I have since the beginning of all this." She flipped the covers off of her vigorously and draped her legs off the side. "I'm no child."

Just as she stood up, Charles jumped from his seat and briskly made it to her side. She managed a few steps before the room started to tilt and she lost her balance. Luckily, and much to her chagrin, Charles caught her tipping form and gently sat both of them on her bed. Even with her head down and her eyes closed, Charles could tell that anger was ready to seep out of her pores. She smacked the mattress and let out a huff, startling Charles a bit. He cautiously reached for her hand, not sure if she was going to slap it away or not. When she didn't, he used his other hand to turn her face towards him.

"I know you are frustrated, and you want everything to be normal again but this is going to take some time. As much as you want to control it, you can't. The best part about this however, is that you don't have to do it alone. I'm here with you, and I have every intention of nursing you back to perfect health as soon as possible. But you cannot expect so much from yourself."

She could only take deep breaths to calm herself and nod at his kind words. He abruptly stood up and held his hands out for her to grab. She looked up at him, a bit unsure of herself, but eventually connected her hands with his. He helped her stand and he wrapped his left arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"We're going to walk together. If you get dizzy you just lean on me and I'll hold you up."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you…"

"Nonsense, you could never hurt me. I am the stoic butler after all. I've been standing straight and tall for most of my life. Nothing can knock me down."

She let out a small chuckle. "We'll see about that."

They began to move in unison towards the door. The weird tilting sensation came back and she leaned on him unknowingly. Her legs started to tremble and she panicked.

"Charles…"

"Shh no I've got you. Don't worry, I will carry you if I must. Just try your best. It will get easier from now on."

Together they walked a few steps to become accustomed to their shared gait. When they felt steady, Charles opened the door to her room and they slowly made their way to the bathroom, not giving a care in the world to anyone who saw them.


	21. Sunset

**A/N: Thanks for your continued support! I don't respond to reviews like I should but know that I read every single one and I love you all! This one was hard to write for some reason…**

* * *

"I have a surprise for you."

"Oh do you now?"

"Well, it's not really a surprise…I mean it is…"

"Oh on with it!"

"I want to show you something. It's nothing extraordinary but it's more for the…experience."

"Well, now you've peaked my interest."

It has been almost two weeks since Charles nearly lost the struggle with death for Elsie's life. They had progressively worked together to get her back to strength. It started with trips up and down the corridor, short distances at first that lead to greater stamina. Slowly, but surely, she worked up to traversing the stairs. Even though she had to pause a few times to breathe or cough, she still managed. She even started to eat with the staff downstairs when she wasn't too tired. Charles doesn't think she's eating as well as she should, but at least she's eating, and he couldn't complain about that. She's dressing and washing herself, and as far as he knows, she hasn't fallen from dizziness. But then again, she wouldn't tell him.

"The only thing you will need is your coat and hat."

"We're going outside? Charles, it's been raining all day."

"Are you afraid of melting? And it has stopped… The sun even showed its face for a bit. Quite a treat from the nasty cold we've been having."

She tried to hide the apprehension in her face but Charles saw hints of it in the wrinkles around her eyes. "It won't be for long, and it's a short walk. Now if we don't hurry, we'll miss it!"

He helped her into coat and made sure she was bundled up. Despite it being above freezing temperatures for yesterday and today, he wasn't going to risk it. Not when it comes to her. He held her arm tightly as they walked to the end of the path, passed a row of trees and stopped at the edge of a hill.

What met her eyes was absolutely astounding. The sun had just begun to set and the angle of its rays cast a spectrum of colors that Elsie rarely sees. It's the same colors that she dreams of, where fantasies and visions of the future come to light in the darkest of hours. The sensation that she feels in her chest when she witnesses this phenomenon is so familiar; it's the same feeling she gets when her mind is occupied with Charles.

They stood in silence for a minute or two before Elsie decided to speak. "I don't know about you Charles, but this sunset is something amazing. I mean I've seen hundreds, maybe thousands, through the years but this is a whole new experience."

"I feel the same but I'm not sure why."

"I think it's because we're together now, together with our love. Ever since the proposal I've seen things in a different perspective. Everything is beautiful. Everything has meaning."

"I suppose this is why they say marriage can be a wondrous thing."

The two watched the sun until it was submerged by the horizon, arms still entwined with Elsie's head leaning on Charles's arm.


	22. Mad

**A/N: Decided to pull a scene from season 4. Enjoy!**

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"You took a letter out of my waste paper basket when I clearly crumpled it and thrown it away."

Oh Charles is mad, and it's building by the second. She's seen him angry before of course, but it is not usually directed at her—a foolish footman or rebellious hall boy. Luckily she knows the reason why, is fully prepared for this encounter, and she will defend herself profusely.

"I could see it upset you and I wanted to know why." She tries to remain somewhat calm. Obviously this is a sore subject for him and she wants to give him the benefit of the doubt before she goes off on him.

"Oh I'm sure. But it didn't occur to you that it might not be your concern why I was upset?"

"Well anyway I did it, I read it, and I went to see him."

Charles huffs and walks to the silver cabinet. He searches for the candle holder as she continues. Despite his obvious irritation, there is a small part of him that wants to know more. And he hated that. He wants to be done with the man, erase from his memory the heartache that he caused.

"Don't you want to know how he is?"

"If I wanted to know how he is I would have answered his letter." He looks for the polishing rag, making believe that he didn't really care where the conversation is going but he desperately wants to hear an answer. No I do not bother with this man, he thinks to himself. Why am I spending so much of my thinking on this traitor who stole my Alice? This should be a simple conversation, but she's making it difficult.

"Mr. Carson, he's in the workhouse." Her tone is sharper, her patience wearing thin. She was hoping that once this conversation started he would come around, see error in his ways. But his shrouded view of his friend is making her blood boil. "And in case you're wondering, it's as bad as if you were reading it in a novel by Dickens!"

It's getting harder and harder to hide his interest and can't help but ask, "Haven't they closed the workhouses?"

"No, they haven't. Not all of them."

He wants to tell her so badly what Grigg did to fuel his hatred, the amorous love and devotion that he stole from him, but all he could muster is "Well at least he's in the dry."

"If you can call in dry when ere's mold in the very air that you breathe." Her accent is much more pronounced now, caused by the aggravation of his menial remarks. If there was any confusion of her anger before, there is no doubt about it now. She tones it down a tad to ask, "This is a man you sang and danced with. Do you feel nothing?"

Oh but he does, because she knows exactly which nerves to string. If he doesn't get out of this conversation now, he might do or say something he will regret and he will hurt her with his words. "I don't feel I could be helpful, no. And I would thank you not to remind me of a time in my life I prefer to forget." There. That is it. He grips the platter with the candle holder tightly to prevent him from saying any further while briskly turning around and walking out of the room. He is grumbling to himself as she shakes her head in disbelief and walks out herself, shutting the door behind her.


	23. Thousand

**A/N: Since I got such fabulous and thoughtful reviews on Transformation, I thought I'd do the same but in Elsie's POV, and it's a bit more risqué...**

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There are a thousand things I could tell you about Charles Carson. He's a worry wart, one who will not rest easy until all is set in stone. He feels incomplete when tasks are not done with absolute precision, which makes him the worst kind of perfectionist. If the labels of the spice jars are not facing outwards, or if a flower is poking its way out of a vase, he has to stop and readjust. If there is a scuff on the kitchen floor, or the smallest of scratches on the silver platter, he will be at it for hours. Oh the complaints and groans about his back from bending over and working himself to the bone on trivial things. But that's what makes him such an astounding butler; he can pick up on awkwardness at dinner parties, agitation from visitors, anything that would offset the family and he'll fix it as if it wasn't broken in the first place.

Luckily for me, he can read my emotions just as well as the family's, if not better. He can tell just by looking at me if I am perplexed, nervous or scared out of my wits. He knows how to cure it as well; a soft touch on my forearm, a squeeze of my hands, a love-infused embrace, a lustful kiss…

His kisses are an addiction, an obsession. Despite not knowing much of the physical aspect of love, he knows exactly where to set his luscious lips to send me into another world. He learns quick for he cherishes which spots are sensitive, which cause my breath to hitch, which releases my moans from its confines. His fingers do much the same except it's softer and they work faster.

Each evening, his body is bathed in the glimmering light of the bedside candle and it highlights his contours. My favorite are his arms; it may not be as toned as when he was younger but it is still there. The muscles in his upper arms form gentle hills that remind me of the Highlands back home. It gives me pleasure to glide my finger across and feel his smooth skin rippling over his physique. His chest is strong and when I rub my hands over it, I picture him in his livery, presiding over the dinner table- the iconic, stoic butler.

I like the way his belly is not as firm as it once was, giving me some solace in the fact that I'm not as firm as I once was either. We don't mind those parts of our bodies as much, for we're too occupied with other affairs involving exotic utopias.

We live for not just ourselves but for each other. For me, and I can say with most certainty for Charles as well, I have never felt more alive. I may be heading towards the end of my time here in this life but I feel as if I am beginning it. I do sometimes think of how much time we have lost, why our paths have never crossed forty years ago. But I swiftly change my thoughts for I could spend my energy on something else, like imagining his cheeks rising when he smiles jubilantly. Or perhaps, how we fall asleep together tonight. One thing is for certain, my mind is always filled with him.


	24. Outside

He's been gone for nearly two hours.

He had said she wanted to get something from Ripon quickly and then return home. She objected copiously, which started an argument.

_"__It is a beautiful day outside, perfect for talking a brisk walk for an errand in Ripon. There is nothing wrong about it!"_

_"__Charles it's very humid outside, almost impossible to breathe. Not even a young lad should take a walk in this stuffiness."_

_"__There is a slight breeze that will prevent me from becoming overheated. I'll drink a glass of water before I go. I may not be a 'young lad' but I am still capable. I will be fine."_

Two hours later and it is _not_ fine. She's getting worrisome and she can't focus on her work in the least bit. She decides to start her search for him, pinning up her hat to protect her from the sun. She finds a small bottle and fills it with cold water, hoping that she will find him walking back and force him to drink it all. She hopes she will not find him passed out somewhere along the path.

She plays both scenarios in her mind, yet the image of him lying on the ground is causing tightness in her chest. With each minute of walking her lungs become constricted as panic begins to set.

She's nearly halfway to Ripon when she decides to stop in the shade of some trees for a rest. Between the weather and her anxiety, she's not sure how much longer she can actually travel. Leaning on the tree for support, she finds the bottle of water and takes a large sip. She is trying everything she can to make sure she locates him, and she'll be damned if she's the one lying on the ground. As she's screwing the cap to the bottle, she catches a glimpse of a shoe sticking out of the shrubbery.

"CHARLES!" She sprints to him, something she hasn't done since she was a young lass and she will sure pay for it tomorrow. He is sitting up on the ground, leaning against the tree with his eyes closed and his jacket in his lap. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Elsie nearly falls over him as her panic caused her to have less control of her momentum.

"Charles wake up!" She shakes his shoulders and his eyes open immediately.

His sharp intake of breath is followed by a coughing spat. She fumbles for the bottle and puts it to his lips, forcing him to drink. After a few long sips, he turns his head indicating that he doesn't want anymore.

His breathing is still labored when he exclaims, "Elsie! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Gave YOU a heart attack? How would you like it if you found me slumped against a tree, drenched in sweat and red as blood?"

Realization hit him hard as he looks at his surroundings, putting the fragments of memory back together. "Elsie, I'm so sorry. I was on my way back when I felt I needed to sit and rest. I must have fallen asleep. This heat is so tiring…"

"I'm not going to say I told you so but…" she trails off, leaving him to finish the sentence in his mind. Charles embraces her and kisses her hair.

"I'm so very sorry love. It was never my intention to scare you. I am a stubborn fool who should listen to his wife more often. If anything positive is to come out of this experience, it is that I learned my lesson. Elsie Carson is correct again."

"I don't care if I'm right or not, I'm just glad that you are okay. Although, it doesn't hurt to hear you say it..."


	25. Winter

"I can't believe how frigid it is outside. The house is going to take forever to heat up."

Charles and Elsie are working together to prepare the fires in their cottage. The temperature dropped suddenly in the afternoon and now they are trying to warm their home before temperatures drop further.

As soon as the fires were roaring, they grab the warmest blankets they could find and cuddled in each other's warmth on the settee. Elsie is shivering slightly, which is instantly cured by his large, soft hands caressing her arms and back.

"The windows are already fogging up, and the fire's only started." Elsie is nuzzled tightly into Charles they look out the window.

"But what are those designs on the window?" Charles seems a little flabbergasted at the new development. As the cottage became warmer, the windows become tinted with the freezing cold.

Elsie smiles and releases a soft chuckle. "Those lovely designs are illustrated by Miss Sybbie. It looks like she had a grand old time while she and Tom were visiting the other day." The pane is decorated in drawings made with little fingers: snowflakes, a Christmas tree, hearts, portraits of her and her father, of George and Marigold, of the Abbey itself. What catches both of their attention is in the corner… an attempt in handwriting:

_mstr n mss kawsun_

It is sprawled and hard to read, but to them it's clear as day. But just to make sure Elsie asks, "Is that what I think it says?"

"It sure is. Mr. and Mrs. Carson."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "That wee lass is so smart, just like her parents. She will be reading and writing in no time!" Both are silent for a minute and Charles notices Elsie's somber expression. "I will miss them when they go to America."

"As will I, but Mr. Branson will write often I presume. Hopefully they will visit sometime in the near future...The summer perhaps." Charles hugs her closer to him, "At least we have Miss Sybil's drawings to look at. Although I will say she forgot something crucial on one of them?"

"What is it?"

Charles releases her and walks to the window. She can't see what he's doing for he purposely blocks her view. When he steps away, he reveals his addition: a heart around their names.

"There. Much better."


	26. Diamond

Elsie was in the parlor of their cottage with the goal of decorating it in its entirety by the afternoon's end. She had rearranged pictures and books, sewed the last of the pillows, hemmed the curtains, dusted the shelves and swept the floors. The only thing left to do was to put the curtains above the windows. The room was not tall, but she did need a step ladder to reach the rod.

She had gone to Ripon to find the fabric for the pillows and curtains. Not everything had to match, but she wanted certain palettes and prints that would look well together. She'd found a lovely gold Chenille fabric with embroidered diamonds. It was definitely quite bold, but Mrs. Brown had insisted that it was all the rage in London. Elsie fell in love with it instantly, and decided she would surprise Charles with it; whether his reaction would be good or bad she still wasn't sure.

Up on the step ladder, she reached up on her toes to put the rod in place. She didn't hear Charles enter the room, but she did hear "What in heavens is _that?_"

His voice, which was not meant to be loud and booming but it was, startled her. She jolted, causing her to lose grip on the rod. It collided with her head before continuing its decent to the ground. One hand immediately flew to the wall for support while the other tended to the pain in her head. Charles ran over to her and helped ease her down. He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to the settee.

Knowing what he did, he wasted no time in showering her with kisses to her hair and apologies.

"I'm so sorry love. I thought you heard me enter the room. I shouldn't have spoken so loud either. You could have fallen. I'm so, so sorry Elsie."

She smiled through the dulling pain and opened her eyes to see his worried face. _He is so mad at himself, and so worried about me._ She had never seen anything so adorable, despite the fact that he is wallowing in self-pity.

"Charles it's quite alright, it was an accident that's not necessarily your fault. I just got a little bump with the rod, that's all." She patted her head to show him where she was hit. "I was so focused on trying to put up the rod that I didn't even hear you come in. Actually, I didn't even hear what you said…What did you say?"

"I said…uh, I said the curtains look…lovely." He had no idea if he pulled off his little white lie but she responded with a grin and said, "Really? I'm glad you like them! Apparently they are quite popular in London."

_Blasted changing of the times._

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**A/N: I know today is the last day of the challenge but I still have prompts to complete so I think I'm going to post one more story tomorrow that encompass the remaining prompts. Thank you all so much! Also, a picture of the fabric can be found at the tumblr post for this chapter :)**


	27. Fin

**A/N: In honor of finishing the February Chelsie Challenge, and the US season finale of Downton Abbey, I've combined the remaining prompts into this little drabble. Enjoy, and HAPPY DOWNTON DAY****!**

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"Who knows what the future may hold."

Never did she imagine what would tumble out of his mouth after she said that. She never expected him to purchase the house under both names, never foreseen a proposal, an indirect proclamation of love. Well, to say she never wanted a proposal was clearly false, and she would be lying to herself if she said otherwise. How much time has gone by? Fifteen years? Twenty? For every day of those years she thought of him; whether it was good or bad. At first it was just for silly trivial things like remembering to tell him about her Ladyship's request, or to ask about how the interviews were going for the hall boy position. But somewhere along the line her thoughts shifted, and began to involve feelings:

_I hope I didn't sound too harsh._

_I need to hold back my tears for his sake._

_I hope he can tell how much I care for him._

And that's when she realized she was in deep, much deeper than she ever could have comprehended. With the emotions came physical "ailments" like racing heartbeat, heavy breathing, loss of focus. The rotas required multiple calculations for she lost count frequently. She walked into rooms and forgot what she came in for. She passed by his pantry when his door was open so she could take a peek at him. She was losing control to love.

During the season when he was gone, it was almost unbearable. No one would ever know it because she was so excellent at hiding it. They wrote letters to each other frequently, and sometimes she would have to stop herself from writing multiple pages. She traced her fingers on the edges of the paper, imagining him touching it. She faintly smelt his cologne each time she opened the envelope. She would even take it with her to bed so she could have something comforting to help her fall asleep. She still has each one of those letters.

And now they are standing close together, his hand covering her hand on his arm. It is so simple. His promise is so simple. It's almost like releasing your breath after holding it in from anticipation, to feel like a weight is lifted from your shoulders. She feels like she's flying in the sky atop a cloud of cotton candy, drifting away into paradise. She can't think because she is so in shock and exhilarated and happy. So very, very _happy._

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**A/N: Thank you all so much for following along with me on this journey. I hope you've truly enjoyed each of my drabbles. And thank you to all the other writers out there including reviewers. This fandom is composed of a fantastic group of people ****J**


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